Moments
by Nike Femme
Summary: How and why does Okita Souji love Hijikata Toshizuo?
1. Nearly Eight

Disclaimer: I don't own any of them. Not making any money from this. Please leave me a review if you like the story.

Author's Note: Was recently in Kyoto again, remembered PMK and the scene where Souji muses that Hijikata would laugh if he were to divulge his true reason for becoming the demon's child that he is, and next thing you know, the muse bunny came by. There are too few Hijikata x Okita fics out there, and even fewer are written from Okita's POV. I adore Souji (who wouldn't?) and love the inner musings of Hijikata, but for once, I'd like to examine Hijikata through Okita's eyes. There's gotta be a reason the _Kumichou Ichibantai_ loves his _Fukuchou_, _ne_?

* * *

_**Moments**_

**1.**

The first time Souji sees him, it is spring and the cherry trees are in fullest bloom, their branches creaking under the weight of the deceptively delicate blossoms that smother their neighbours and carpet the grass underfoot. The moon is silvery on the horizon, and a cool wind is blowing, causing petals to flutter down like snow that speckles the dark head standing bowed under bough. The man's hair is raven-black and flowing, although not yet as long as it will come to be. But that is years into a future that Souji knows nothing of now. At this moment, he is a child of nearly eight years, and he is wide-eyed at the sight, because it is very pretty, and Souji likes pretty things. Is it all right to call a man pretty? He thinks that perhaps he will remember to ask someone later.

This house and this tree are new to him. He has been brought here by his sister after her adoption into the Kondo family, and it seems that he is to stay here for a while. He likes Kondo-san though, so that is all right with him, and his son is also very kind. He makes Souji laugh with his tricks – Kondo-san, the one that isn't quite so old, has a very big mouth, and his whole fist will fit in it. He often pretends he is going to eat Souji, and then he tickles him and gives him sweets before sending him off to play. Sometimes Souji does go off to play, but sometimes he sneaks into the dojo to watch the men train. Some of them are old, and some are young, but all are much, much bigger than Souji, so he is careful to stay out of the way.

He tries to do the same thing now, to be silent and unseen. He really shouldn't even be awake at this hour, but Souji has always loved the night. Things seem clearer in the still darkness. Like the whiteness of the cherry blossoms against the black of the man's hair. Souji's own hair is quite short, cropped closely around his head by his sister, but he thinks that perhaps he will ask if he may grow it out from now on. He isn't quite sure if his hair will be as pretty, but he hopes it will be.

The man appears to be deep in thought. There is a line – actually, a couple of lines – between his eyebrows, the same as Kondo-san's when he is thinking. His lips move as if he is reciting something to himself. Then he frowns, pursing his lips, apparently discarding something mentally. Souji watches in fascination as the man begins to pace under the tree, occasionally looking up at the pale fire of the petals against the darkness of the night. He thinks that the man would look nicer if he didn't frown quite so much, but there is still something very interesting about his face. It isn't big and open like Kondo-san's – again, the one that isn't so old. Instead it is all angles and lines – two thick slashes of ink for brows and a thin one for a mouth that looks like it could be cruel, sharp planes forming high cheekbones that cast faint shadows in the light of the lamps on the wall. Souji isn't very good yet at telling how old big people are – they're all just older, even his sister – but he thinks that perhaps this man is about the same age as Kondo-san. The not-so-old one.

It is spring, and it is still chilly at night, and Souji is only in a thin yukata. Another gust of wind shakes the branches of the tree, and blossoms rain down like bits of fine paper. Souji sneezes, then claps a mortified hand over his mouth. He ducks behind the corner of the house, then peeks out slowly, hoping the man has not noticed, because if he has then he might go away. And Souji would like him to stay a little longer.

But he has. Dark eyes glint in the moonlight as they turn towards Souji, a fluid motion, and he is reminded of the eyes of a wolf. He saw one once, in a cage at a market. It had dangerous eyes that glowed and promised death to anyone foolish enough to approach.

Souji had been mesmerized.

"Brats should not be wandering around this late at night," says the man. His voice is very low, lower even than Kondo-san's, and twice as menacing. Souji thinks that it sounds like darkness. Like night, and stillness. And he thinks that he should be afraid, the way the people had been afraid of the wolf.

But he wasn't. And he isn't. He's always liked the night.

"I'm not wandering around," Souji says finally, peeking out a little further. The man is standing quite still now, watching. "I live here."

A dark eyebrow lifts. "Do you, now."

"Yes." Souji sidles out from the shelter of the shadows, deciding that hiding is pointless now that the man knows exactly where he is. "Do you?"

"I don't have to answer to a child."

"_Mou_," pouts Souji. Older people can be so silly sometimes. "You just did. What are you doing, anyway?"

A growl. "Mind your own business."

"I am!" Souji thinks the man is being quite unreasonable. After all, Souji's business right now is the man. "I'm minding you, aren't I?"

The dour scowl doesn't change, but somehow Souji knows that he has surprised the man. For a moment the two stare at each other, and then the man sighs resignedly and pads over to the veranda. He sits, and Souji cautiously follows, careful to leave a good foot-and-a-half between them. Kondo-san says that wild animals need their personal space or they might flee or attack, and Souji doesn't want either to happen, because then he wouldn't be able to look at the pretty man anymore. There are still petals in his hair. He tells the man so.

"Hn. They'll dry and fall off soon."

"I hope not," Souji says solemnly. "They're pretty." There, he's said it. But he hasn't actually called the man pretty, just the cherry blossoms. The man looks like he can't decide whether to be mad at Souji or not, and Souji gives him the look, the one he uses on Kondo-san whenever he's done something naughty. It always works on bigger people. He knows this because he overheard the kitchen maids talking about it, about how no one could resist that face. It's a useful thing to know at the age of nearly-eight when everything he does seems to get him into trouble. He giggles slightly for good measure.

And sure enough, the man sighs again and turns away. "Yes, they are."

They sit there in silence for a while. Souji doesn't mind, because it's a comfortable silence, punctuated by the looks he steals from the man and vice versa. He knows that some people think he chatters too much, but he only does it when he wants to know something, or share something with people he likes. Otherwise he's quite happy to enjoy the sounds of silence – the rustling of leaves, and the lapping of water on stone, and right now, the slow, steady breathing of the man beside him, whose mouth doesn't seem quite as cruel as it did. Although it is cold. He shivers, and the man stirs.

"Stupid kid, you'll catch your death of cold in that." The words are harsh, but the tone is neutral, and the man meets Souji's vaguely reproachful gaze levelly.

"No I won't. I'll just get a medicine for it, and I'll get better. Medicine makes everything better," Souji says with the lofty confidence of one who has seen it happen. It worked when his sister had a cold. She was grumpy and red-nosed for a week, but she got better and now she's here and so is Souji.

A half-amused snort. "Sorry to break it to you, kid, but there are some things no medicine can cure. I should know."

Many years from now, it will be the man who procures medicines with all the fervour of a true believer. And Souji will accept the bitter tonics, sweetened with honey and mint and love, and he will pretend to still believe that medicine will make everything better, because it eases the heart of the man that he holds within his own. But he will know, and the man will know, that the truth spoken so freely years ago is still as cutting as ever.

Emotions have a way of making lies seem preferable though. Everything passes. Is it so wrong to allow the illusion of hope for a single moment?

For now, Souji believes, and his eyes widen. "Are you a doctor?"

The man shakes his head and leans back a little on his hands. "No. A medicine peddler."

"You make medicines!" This is even better than being a doctor, at least to Souji. His experience with doctors is that they make disappointed chuffing noises and lecture people, then give them little pieces of paper with writing. It's the medicine peddlers who hand over odd smelling packets of magic that go into boiling water or tea. And they're always kind to him, sometimes giving him little pieces of sweetroot or candied ginger to suck on. Not as good as sweets would be, but still quite nice. "Will you teach me?"

"No."

"But…."

"No means no."

Souji narrows his eyes and pouts dangerously. "Why?"

"Because."

"Because why?"

"Stop being a brat."

"I'm nearly eight. I'm not a brat. How old are you?"

"Then don't behave like one. I'm old enough to tell when you are."

Souji opens his mouth to retort, but sneezes instead. The man glares accusingly at him.

"You should get to bed. I don't want to have to waste good medicine on you because you were too stupid to listen."

"I'll go to bed if you go to bed," Souji bargains, not wanting to miss out on anything.

"I'm not sleepy."

"Neither am I," Souji says obstinately, although he can feel a yawn coming on. "What are you going to do now?"

The man stands up. Souji makes to follow, but is instead swung up with ease in the man's arms. They are heavy and tense in the way of big people unused to carrying children, and the full sleeves are comfortably warm with the heat of the man's body. "First, I'm going to make you go to bed. I don't want Kat-chan after my head because I allowed his newest pet to fall ill."

"I am not a pet," Souji argues back sleepily. And then he recognizes the term of familiarity. "You know Kondo-san?"

"_Hai_. _Baka_. How else would I be here in his house? I always visit when I come this way."

Souji snuggles into the man's chest. He smells different from other people Souji has met, like a mix of herbs and smoke and oil, and under that, like musk and incense. It's a nice scent though, and Souji decides that he wants to be able to smell it more often. "I don't know your name."

"I don't know yours."

"Okita Soujirou Fujiwara no Harumasa," Souji says sleepily, but with all the formality that his sister has drummed into him. The effect is ruined as he shrugs, the uncaring gesture of a child. "But people call me Souji."

"You should not give your name out so freely," comes the terse rebuke. "But a name for a name. I am Hijikata Toshizuo Yoshitoyo." Souji rolls the name around his head. It's a nice name, he decides at last. A strong name. It goes with the man carrying him. He wonders fuzzily if people called the man Toshi as a child, and giggles a little. It's hard to imagine the man ever having been a child. But he is pretty.

"Hijikata-san?"

There is a pause. "Yes?"

Souji can no longer contain the yawn, so he lets it out and buries his head in the front of the man's – no, Hijikata-san's – yukata. "What are you going to do after putting me to bed?"

He is asleep before the answer comes.

When he wakes in the morning, it is to the relieved exclamations of his sister and Kondo-san as they discover him in Hijikata-san's room. The man himself has already left, leaving no trace of his presence behind but for the faint scent on Souji's yukata and a scattering of cherry blossom petals upon the pillow and a note beneath it. Souji is disappointed that his pretty friend has left, but Kondo-san says that he will be back this way again soon enough, and Kondo-san never lies. Souji tells him about his night adventure and shows him the note, and Kondo-san laughs and says that Hijikata-san was probably trying to compose a _haiku _when Souji saw him under the tree. Souji isn't sure what that is – a _haiku_, not a tree - so Kondo-san explains, and says he will give Souji a few to read later – never too early to start, he guffaws. For some reason, ever since Souji told him that he thought Hijikata-san looked very pretty under the cherry blossoms, Kondo-san has been red-faced as if holding back laughter. Maybe men aren't supposed to be called pretty.

Later, after he understands what a _haiku_ is, he goes back and reads the paper that Hijikata-san had left him under his pillow. He supposes Hijikata-san left it there in answer to his last question. He doesn't know if it is any good – he's only nearly eight – but he knows that it is all his.

_Between the petals  
The wonder of a child's eyes  
Spring in a moment_

Souji thinks he will have to buy Hijikata-san a present in return. Perhaps a book for Hijikata-san to write his _haiku_ in. Of course, Souji will have to be allowed to read all of them – Kondo-san says that there is no better way to learn to write than by example after all.


	2. WolfCub

Disclaimer: I don't own any of them. Not making any money from this. Please leave me a review if you like the story.

Author's Note: For such an unreasonably overlooked fandom, I'm thrilled to have gotten this much traffic in such a short period of time. Thanks to those who reviewed, and please do stop by again!

* * *

_**Moments**_

**2.**

The second time Souji sees him, it is late fall, and the ground is carpeted with fading red-gold-brown leaves that flutter down from the trees. There is a bite to the air, and Kondo-san has kindly presented Souji with a new quilted kimono to wear to the autumn festival. It's a little large, but Souji's sister says that he'll grow into it. Souji hopes he doesn't grow out of it too quickly either – it's the nicest kimono he's ever owned, all muted shades of pale blues and embroidered golden browns, very grown-up, he thinks. His hair has grown out some, although it's nowhere near as long as Hijikata-san's yet, and the maids coo happily over Souji and tell him how adorable he looks, and how he has beautiful eyes the colour of twilight, and sometimes, when they think he isn't listening, they tell his sister that he's going to be a lady-killer when he grows up. He's not certain that's a good thing – he doesn't see why they think he would be killing _onna_s, or anyone for that matter, male or female. Souji has thought about asking Kondo-san about it, but he doesn't want to get the maids in trouble if they're wrong – although he thinks they are – so he doesn't. Maybe Hijikata-san will be willing to explain someday if Souji asks nicely enough.

He hasn't seen Hijikata-san since that first time under the cherry blossoms. Kondo-san said that Hijikata-san often returns to his family to help out on the farm during summer and the following harvest period, but might come back after that. Souji hopes so. Now that he's a grown-up eight, he's sure he'll be able to persuade Hijikata-san to teach him about medicine. And _haiku_. He's found that most big people will give him anything he wants if he asks often enough and smiles.

The autumn festival is noisy and bright, all lights and excited voices and good smells that waft through the night air. Souji has been allowed out with a couple of the more senior household staff, and he is skipping with excitement as he tries to look in all directions at once. His sister meant to come too, but she's in bed with a slight headache, and he's promised to bring her a little present back. The coins he's been saving jingle in the little pouch at his waist and he pats it happily with the hand that isn't being clutched tightly by his equally excited escorts. The two young men are laughing loudly and waving at passing ladies, and occasionally ducking and blushing when the ladies smile behind their sleeves, which Souji finds very odd. If they want to play, why don't they just ask the ladies to come play with them? That's what Souji does, and he's never been turned down.

There's a knot of women gathered around a little further ahead, and Souji finds himself being dragged along with the crowd. He hopes they're buying candy. In the jostling and shoving, Souji's little hand slips from his escorts, and he finds himself being pushed off his feet. From where he is, his vision is filled with fluttering hems and wobbling geta, and he latches onto the nearest of them as he struggles to get up. But Souji is very small, even for his age, and the women are much bigger than him, and he is starting to think that he should simply crawl between the legs and out of the crowd when a heavy hand lands on the back of his robe and yanks him out of the heaving mess. Startled, he twists around nimbly, but even as he raises his eyes to meet those of his rescuer, he knows it is Hijikata-san from the scent of the sleeve. The man grunts in amusement at his catch, and now Souji can see that the pushy women were vying for Hijikata-san's attention. For a moment he wonders if perhaps the women are all sick and wanting medicine, but he doesn't really care, because Hijikata-san is looking only at him, one dark eyebrow raised, and he flings his arms around the broad shoulders for balance, causing the man to stumble back with a muffled exclamation even as he is forced to wrap his arms around Souji a little more securely.

"Still a troublesome brat, I see," Hijikata-san says. But Souji isn't offended, because he's already learnt that Hijikata-san just says things like that but doesn't really mean them, and he giggles as he wiggles about in the strong arms, turning and twisting to look for the servants who were supposed to stay with him.

"I'm not a brat. You wouldn't have written me a _haiku_ if I were," Souji points out smugly.

"And what makes you think I wrote it for you?"

Souji is surprised, and a little worried now. "You left it under my pillow. Was it not for me?" he asks finally, in a very small voice that trembles in his ears. If it's not his, does that mean Hijikata-san wants it back? He can feel his cheeks heating up, and he bites his lip hard so that he will not cry, because he doesn't want to look weak in front of Hijikata-san. "_Gomen nasai_. You can have it back if you want." His fingers reach into his robes and slide across the paper that he has folded and refolded many times. It is warm from being pressed against his body above his heart for so long.

When he looks up dolefully into Hijikata-san's face, the dark mien has softened, and the man is looking at him with an unfathomable expression – it looks a little like Yamanami-san's when the gentle man is poring over the dojo's ledgers, as if trying to solve a puzzle. Then Hijikata-san's callused hand closes gently over his own and tucks the precious paper back into Souji's robes, smoothing gently over the front of them. "No matter. You can keep it for me."

"For how long?" Souji asks warily, not wanting to get his hopes up again.

One corner of the thin mouth curls upwards, and Souji thinks that he likes that expression on Hijikata-san. "Must everything be a question with you?" he chides, but he doesn't seem angry, not really. He taps his chin thoughtfully. "For as long as we are friends. All right?"

Souji nods vigorously as he hugs that statement to himself with glee and promises himself that he will be friends with Hijikata-san for a long time.

It is late fall and there is a bite to the air, and the tip of Souji's nose is turning red from the cold. His eyes cross as he tries to focus on the bobbing red point of his nose and he nearly falls over, but again Hijikata-san is there to catch him.

"Idiot. Stop fooling around, Souji, I'm not your babysitter."

So Souji stops and obediently slips his frozen hand into Hijikata-san's bigger one. They're supposed to be looking for Souji's escorts, but really, he doesn't mind if they don't find them because Hijikata-san is far more interesting. He's different from the other adults Souji knows, because even though he acts quite rude – perhaps he doesn't have a sister to teach him about manners? – he treats Souji like an equal most of the time and doesn't condescend and actually answers questions truthfully instead of fobbing Souji off with platitudes. Souji hates it when people do that. He's a very grown up eight now, after all, and as they move down the main street of the festival, Souji chatters on to Hijikata-san about the things Kondo-san has him doing now, like fetching tea – Souji's learnt to make it really well from the cook, better than his sister even – and cleaning the dojo, and helping out with chores like feeding the livestock – baby chickens are really cute, and the old hen just had a brood so there are lots of them running about now – and how Kondo-san has been teaching him to write _haiku_, and how his sister has been making him do his lessons really, really well because she says it's important for a samurai to be literate, and how she's not feeling too well right now and neither is his mother back home and does Hijikata-san know any good medicines for that? It's nice to talk to Hijikata-san, Souji decides; he seems to be a very good listener, because he hasn't actually said anything much except for a few grunts, which must mean he's listening, right?

"Your father is samurai?" Hijikata-san asks abruptly.

Souji nods. "But he's dead now."

"Nonetheless, you could be samurai if you wished to be." There is an odd note in Hijikata-san's voice that Souji doesn't recognize. "It is your birthright."

"I don't know if I want to be one," Souji says finally. "I don't know if I'm strong enough. And I don't think I'm a lady-killer. Must you be one to be samurai?"

A strangled cough. "What?"

Souji shrugs philosophically. "I heard the maids talking about me. They said I would be one, but I don't think so. It seems like it wouldn't be a very nice thing to do, unless they hurt you first. How do you kill ladies, anyway? The same way you kill men?"

It takes Hijikata-san a good ten minutes to stop laughing and explain what the maids meant, and another ten minutes for Souji to grasp exactly what Hijikata-san is saying. And even then, he's not sure he likes the idea. Girls are generally nice, in his experience, and some of them are pretty, like his big sister, but they're not half as interesting as Hijikata-san. He says so, and Hijikata-san snorts and tells him he'll think differently when he's older. Souji doesn't think so, but he thinks that maybe this is another one of those things he isn't supposed to say about men – like calling Hijikata-san pretty – so he changes the subject by announcing that he has to buy his sister a bag of sweets – and a couple more for himself.

The excitement has worn Souji out, and he dozes against the side of a building as Hijikata-san makes a few last sales of medicine from his wooden chest. He hasn't let Souji look inside it yet, but Souji is pretty sure he'll get to eventually. They never found the servants, so Hijikata-san says he'll take Souji home as soon as he wrap up his business here – he was planning to stay the night with Kondo-san anyway. Sales are good during fall, he says, because the chill in the air makes people more aware of their aches and pains. His pouch of coins jingles weightily as he moves.

They are on their way home, and Souji is stumbling along half-asleep, when suddenly he hears loud voices and Hijikata-san is setting his wooden chest down in the tall grass by the side of the road and pushing Souji behind it. He rubs his eyes and realizes that there are three men facing Hijikata-san in the darkness, and they look like they have knives, and suddenly he is afraid. Does Hijikata-san even have a weapon? There is shouting, and demands for money, and the sound of swiftly moving footsteps, and Hijikata-san's eyes are burning like a wolf's in the darkness as he swings something – a wooden sword? – at one of the shapes. He is very fast, and very strong, and Souji thinks that perhaps he could beat some of the other men at Kondo-san's dojo. Still, there are three of them and one of Hijikata-san, and as he faces two of them, the third has circled around behind and is raising his arm to strike.

Souji doesn't really remember what else happened that night. He remembers the way the tall grass whipped against his face as he leapt forward, and he remembers a piercing scream, and he remembers an odd, metallic taste in his mouth. And then the safe feeling of being cradled against Hijikata-san's body as the man runs, and his sister's fussing and tears, and gentle hands removing his kimono and voices whispering that it will have to be burnt because the stains have ruined it. He is rinsing his mouth out with weak tea repeatedly, and being wiped clean with damp cloths, and refusing to let go of Hijikata-san until at last he falls asleep curled up against a warm chest, Kondo-san's voice gentle as he tucks an extra coverlet around Souji and murmurs something unintelligible to Hijikata-san.

Later, he will piece together a few more fragments from that night from whispers and gossip that he isn't supposed to hear. The teeth marks left in a man's leg, says one of the delivery boys, who would have thought such a sweet child capable of such violence? Goes to show that samurai blood will tell, he adds sagely with much head-nodding. The dark look in his beautiful eyes when we were washing him, his sister grieves over tea with Kondo-san's mother, it was as if Souji wasn't there, and it's a miracle he woke up smiling the next day as if nothing had happened, and does she think Souji will have permanent emotional scars? The hails of "little wolf-cub" from the students at the dojo as Souji staggers by under a pile of bamboo swords. He thinks it's meant as a compliment, but he's not certain. Still, since he thinks of Hijikata-san as a wolf, he supposes it can't be all bad to be a wolf-cub.

Souji's considered asking Hijikata-san what happened, but then he also thinks it isn't necessary. He already knows all that he needs to know:

He isn't sorry he hurt the bad man who was trying to hurt Hijikata-san.

He is sorry he ruined the pretty kimono that Kondo-san gave him.

He isn't sorry that he got to hear the words Hijikata-san whispered in his ear as he faded into unconsciousness that night.

"You are still very young, but in your eyes I see the mettle of a full-grown man. Your heart is samurai. You will be all right, Souji. Everything will be all right."

Souji does remember waking up the next morning, his head tucked under Hijikata-san's chin, his fingers cramped from being curled into the front of the man's yukata the entire night. A careful peek upwards reveals another secret that Souji intends to keep hugged close to his chest.

Hijikata-san looks very pretty asleep in the morning sunlight.


	3. Red String Of Fate

Disclaimer: I don't own any of them. Not making any money from this. Please leave me a review if you like the story.

Author's Note: It's been a while, I know. Work and illness appear to be conspiring against me. Still, I hope you enjoy this fragment, and if you feel it warrants it, please do leave me a review. The red string referred to in this bit references the Japanese belief that a red string of fate connects two souls via their little fingers.

_**Moments**_

**3.**

The summer that comes to Edo the year of Souji's ninth birthday is exceptionally hot and it makes everyone very grumpy. Small fights between friends break out all over the compound, and Kondo-san is kept busy trying to maintain discipline. Tempers are short, and the little pages and servants and maids are not spared the wrath of their elders. Yamanami-san even snaps at Souji when he accidentally wakes the man from a nap as he slides the door open to leave him some cool tea. He apologizes almost immediately – Yamanami-san is actually very kind and wouldn't hurt a fly under most circumstances, Souji knows – but it is evident that the state of affairs cannot continue. The air is stifling and tensions in the _shiekan_ simmer as if coming to a boil.

Souji tries to carry out the duties he is responsible for to the best of his abilities, but he's always been a little frail and the heat is becoming oppressive – he nearly faints one afternoon, and is horribly embarrassed by the fuss it arouses in the household. So he decides that he will do the things that require him to be outdoors as early as possible in the mornings, so that he can stay indoors when the sun reaches its afternoon heights. Besides, he likes the quiet still of the early mornings, although they've acquired that slightly damp, cooled-sweat feel to them, what with the humidity and all. As long as he gets his chores done on time, the adults don't mind, and that means Souji is around in the afternoons to bring them cool tea he has made by making a strong brew and diluting it with a little of the cold well water. He sometimes floats a little jasmine in the tea, for fragrance and because the white petals look pretty floating on the surface of the green-brown liquid. Souji picks the flowers in the early morning before they wilt – another reason he likes being up and about early. He gets a lot of compliments on his tea, and he is pleased, because although he doesn't tell anybody, not even Kondo-san, he's hoping to be really good at it by the time Hijikata-san visits again. He'd like Hijikata-san to be impressed. It isn't quite the same as helping to fight off bandits, Souji thinks, but he can't be doing that _all_ the time. The warm feeling he got when Hijikata-san was proud of him was very nice though.

As usual, Hijikata-san's arrival is unannounced, which is why Souji is startled when he hears the familiar deep velvet of Hijikata-san's voice coming from around the corner. He can't quite make out the words, but they seem to have been funny, because Yamanami-san laughs in reply.

"Toshi, you are as vain as ever. Just use this plain cord and let us spar already!"

There is a cross grunt. "I am not vain. You know why I use a red string!"

"Hai, hai," Yamanami-san says in placating tones. "I know, you want to show the ladies that your fate belongs only to yourself and runs not to any of them. Or so you keep telling me. I still think it's because you like the way it sets off your hair!"

"Sannan…."

"Lighten up, Toshi. It's hot enough without your huffing and puffing!"

Souji decides that this is as good a time as any to interrupt and suggest tea. He runs around the corner eagerly. "Hijikata-san!"

He comes to a skidding halt and stares in wonder. Hijikata-san's dark hair is loose and blowing slightly in the wind despite an attempt by the man to tuck it behind his ears. Souji's own hair has grown out even more than the last time, and he now ties it back in a short little ponytail, but he thinks that perhaps he will let it down when he isn't doing chores, even if it won't be as pretty as Hijikata-san's. The man raises an eyebrow at him, but his burning gaze softens a little as he inclines his head in acknowledgement. "Okita Soujirou. What mischief are you up to now?"

Yamanami-san smiles and pushes up his glasses. "Souji is a good child. I'm sure he was just coming to ask if you wanted tea, weren't you, Souji-kun?"

Souji nods eagerly. And then he remembers something else and slips his hand into his yukata. "Hijikata-san, I heard that you were looking for a red string!" He fishes around eagerly and then brings out a tangled mess of red. "Is this it? I found it when I was sweeping the compound this morning – one of the cats was playing with it. Perhaps it stole it from your room?"

For some reason, Yamanami-san's lips are twitching as he watches Souji try to free his fingers, which have gotten tangled up with the string. Souji finally gives up and pouts, holding out his hand hopefully for help, and Yamanami-san nudges Hijikata-san, who starts as if waking from a daze. The tall man reluctantly bends over Souji's hand and after some tugging and pulling, manages to detangle the knotted mass…except for a little loop which has somehow managed to form a knot on Souji's little finger. A look passes between the two older men and Yamanami-san opens his mouth, only to be beaten to the punch by his friend.

"Sannan. Not. A. Word."

"Oh, no, no, of course not," comes the amused reply. "I guess you are right after all – your red string doesn't run to any of those ladies, does it?"

"Sannan!" Hijikata-san's voice is harsh and Souji looks at him questioningly, his bruised-violet eyes wide with surprise. Hijikata-san flushes and turns away from Souji abruptly. "I'm going to the dojo to practice."

Yamanami-san smiles knowingly at Hijikata-san's back, then moves to follow, ruffling Souji's hair in passing. Souji watches them go, confused.

When Souji sees Hijikata-san again later that day, the man's hair is tied back, but not with the red string that Souji had found for him. This makes Souji a little sad, so he asks Yamanami-san if Hijikata-san is angry with him for some reason. The reply he gets doesn't really make sense though.

"He's not angry with you, Souji-kun. It just wouldn't be right for him to flaunt a declaration of non-attachment now that he knows it to be untrue. And you should know by now that Toshi is not a demonstrative person with his feelings."

Many years later, as Souji sits carding his fingers idly through the silky jet-black of his lover's loose hair, curled up contentedly in Hijikata-san's lap as the taller man smokes his pipe and allows himself to relax in the presence of the one person he trusts utterly and completely, Souji will remember Yamanami-san's words and wonder at the workings of fate in cherry blossoms and cats. But for now, Souji is only nine and supposes this is another one of those things he'll understand when he's older. Adults are very strange sometimes. Why does knowing that a cat found the end of Hijikata-san's red string matter? Why did Yamanami-san think it was funny when the string got caught around Souji's finger? What feelings is Hijikata-san not being demonstrative about? And when will he be _older_, so that he won't have to keep waiting for answers? And, come to think of it, how do the adults know the answers anyway?

He thinks a lot about these questions as he is going about his chores the next day. It is still very hot, and everyone is irritable, trying to scratch discreetly, wiping sweat on sleeves and trying to stay in the shade as much as possible. Souji doesn't really notice the heat too much though – he's more interested in trying to figure out some of the answers to his questions. Lost in his thoughts, he fails to pay attention to where he is going and winds up running right into one of the older pages who is carrying an armful of wooden swords. They fall clattering to the ground, reminding Souji of very large pick-up sticks. He bends to help pick them up.

He does not expect the fist that comes whistling towards his face. But his reflexes are fast and it barely catches the tip of his chin as he jerks backwards and falls on his behind in surprise. The other page's sullen face is scowling as he looms over Souji and growls something about stupid, clumsy little boys who get all the attention and get away with things because of their looks. Souji doesn't understand what the other boy is talking about, but he doesn't think this is the right time to argue as he nimbly dodges a kick, coughing a little as the other boy's sandal scuffs up dust from the baked hard ground.

"Yamero!" The order is almost solid in its harshness, and for a moment Souji thinks that the power of the word alone has stopped the other boy in his tracks. And then an arm sweeps briefly across his vision and cuffs the other boy heavily. Souji looks up, blinking against the sunlight, and meets Hijikata-san's dark gaze as the man reaches down to help him up.

"Are you hurt?" Hijikata-san's tone is brusque, but not unkind. He glares briefly at the other boy, who is hurriedly gathering up the wooden swords while keeping his head bowed, not daring to look either of them in the eye.

Souji shakes his head. And he isn't, not really, just a little dusty. Little boys are always getting into fights, and Souji has learnt to compensate for his size with swiftness. He risks a quick look at his fellow page, and is surprised to see a sullen jealousy on his face. Is this why he is upset with Souji? Because Hijikata-san talks to him?

Before he can say anything, the other boy has run off. Hijikata-san does not appear to notice. Instead he leads Souji in the opposite direction, to the backyard and the shade of one of the sakura trees. Souji looks up at him, wondering, and the man kneels so as to be at eye-level with the boy, putting a heavy hand on his shoulder.

"Do the others often bully you, Souji?"

Souji blinks at the seriousness of the question. Hijikata-san's gaze is piercing and unwavering. He considers the question thoughtfully, wrinkling up his brow as he does so and putting one finger on his cheek the way his sister does. "No. No, not really. It's just that I'm smaller, you see. And it's very hot. People get angry when it's hot. But I don't mind, really. I'm very quick," and he laughs lightly, to show that it really is all right.

Somehow Hijikata-san seems to understand what he means, because he nods, satisfied. "Yes, you are quick." There is a palpable pause, and Souji suddenly realizes that Hijikata-san still has his hand on his shoulder. Hijikata-san seems to realize this at the same time, because he abruptly drops his hand and stands, turning away from Souji, who pouts a little at the loss of contact. The man folds his hands behind his back and seems to be struggling to come to some kind of decision, his head bowed slightly so that Souji can see the tension in the line of his neck. Whatever Hijikata-san wants to say next must be important, so Souji waits patiently. At least it's cool here in the shade.

"Have you thought if you will take up the sword, Souji?"

The question comes so suddenly that Souji is caught off-guard. "What?"

Hijikata-san wheels about, eyes gleaming oddly. "You are samurai. Have you considered when you will begin your training?"

The answer is no, not really, Souji thinks. He knows, in an abstract sort of way, that at some point, he will be expected to carry on his family's name, and that he is samurai by birth. And like every little boy, he's wondered about what he will be when he grows up. At the moment, the future self he envisions seems to be engaged in a confused jumble of medicine peddling like Hijikata-san and presiding over funny dinners and trainings like Kondo-san. But he's never asked to take part in the training at the dojo, even though he often peeks in to watch the older boys at it, and Kondo-san seems content to leave him be for now. Isn't nine a little young for training? And how did "if" become "when" in the short space of two questions?

He tries to express his confusion, but it must be coming out clumsily, because what resistance he is putting up is waved airily aside by Hijikata-san. And as if for the first time, he sees the wolf in the curl of Hijikata-san's smile as the man produces a light, cut-down wooden sword from his belt. How odd, Souji thinks dazedly, that he hadn't noticed it until now. The wood is rough against his palms as Hijikata-san steps behind him and curls his small fingers around it, shows him how to grip it correctly by putting his large hands over Souji's, shows him how to lift it and bring it down smoothly in a controlled extension with the barest flick of his wrists and elbows at the end as everything slides and locks into place. A strange thrill runs through his body, up his arms and down his spine, as they repeat the motion again, and again. There is a rightness about the movement, and Souji can barely repress a gurgle of joy.

"Good," Hijikata-san rumbles softly from behind him. "You have naturally good form. That, together with your speed, will serve you very well indeed." And Hijikata-san's praise again warms Souji in a way that nothing else does, pushing aside the hesitation in his belly.

But this is not the moment that Souji will recall, years later, as another young boy asks him why he took up the sword – what reason he had to become strong.

Instead he will remember how, flushed with accomplishment in the heat of the moment, he asked if Hijikata-san paying attention to him and teaching him to hold a sword was the reason the other page was angry earlier, because the other boy wanted Hijikata-san to teach him too.

He will remember the flash of anger – and guilt? – that comes over Hijikata-san's face, and the way the man turns about and leaves, pushing past a startled Souji.

He will remember crying into Yamanami-san's robes as he discovers that Hijikata-san has left without saying goodbye. Not that he ever does, but this is the first time he's left angry with Souji, and Souji doesn't like the feeling at all. Yamanami-san murmurs platitudes and rocks the boy gently in his lap, but all Souji wants is Hijikata-san, and did he make him angry by assuming that he would teach Souji? I'm sorry, Souji sniffles, please tell him I'm sorry, Yamanami-san, I'll be good, I just wanted to know, and I should never have given him back that horrible red string because that started everything, and the rest is lost in choked whimpering. Yamanami-san shakes his head and says no, no, it's not Souji's fault, Hijikata-san was behaving stupidly for an adult, and holds him close, but he doesn't smell the same as Hijikata-san and his kindness only seems to make it worse.

He will remember how he cries himself to sleep that night. And yet somehow he manages to rise at his usual hour, eyes swollen and cheeks hollow with misery. Yamanami-san must have put him to bed, because he is still in the robes he was wearing yesterday instead of the thin cotton yukata that the other pages are wearing as they sprawl over their futons. He pushes himself up wearily and picks up his pillow and freezes, because under the pillow is the little wooden sword that Hijikata-san had given him. He had been clutching it when he ran to Yamanami-san last night, and the kind man must have left it there for him. Souji bends down and picks it up, feeling the weight of it in his hands, perfectly balanced. Hijikata-san must have gone to some trouble to whittle down a proper one for him.

It is this moment that Souji will recall, all those years afterwards. That moment of perfect clarity when everything makes sense to him. Hijikata-san must care about his training if he goes to the trouble of making sure that Souji will have equipment of the right size and weight to learn good form from the start. He must simply be angry that Souji needs teaching and is like all the other young boys wanting Hijikata-san to teach them. So to make Hijikata-san not be angry at him anymore, Souji will simply have to make sure that he becomes really, really good at the sword. And when he is really, really good, Hijikata-san will come back and be proud of him again and they'll be friends again.

Souji nods in satisfaction and begins to roll up his futon, scrubbing the last tear tracks from his skin with his sleeve. He has to wash quickly, because he has chores to look after, and then he has to go to the dojo. He has a sword to master and a friend to win back.

And years later, even as he recalls the childish naïveté that led him down this bloody path he now walks, the rueful smile on his lips is not for the foolishness of the child who picked up a sword to earn the respect of a man he loved even then.

It is for the adult who knows that, even knowing what he knows now, he would make the same choice again.


End file.
